


Angel Face

by CardnialCopiaReadsYourSlashToRepent



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is self-aware, Aziraphale's Bookshop, Crowley (Good Omens) Is Not Crowley (Supernatural), Crowley is not, Crowley stole a lot of stuff (Good Omens), Drag, First Kiss, M/M, Makeup, Possessive Crowley, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 21:45:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardnialCopiaReadsYourSlashToRepent/pseuds/CardnialCopiaReadsYourSlashToRepent
Summary: Crowley stole thousands of dollars worth of Make-up and wants to try it out with Aziraphale. Slowburn and overall gay time.





	Angel Face

The winter wind whipped outside of the A.Z.Fell bookstore. Inside, an angel curled up on a sofa in the backroom. Aziraphale had planned this night much like any other. He had his hot cocoa, he had his book, and he was perfectly content with doing nothing but that until the sun rose with the dawn. White noise spread itself through the shop, the only sounds coming from outside. However, a wrapping started on the door in the front and the Angel slowly but surely made his way to the sound. He thought no one would dare travel in the weather, more or less want a to go book shopping, so it was anyone's guess to who'd had the guts to come here. Before he could reach the front, the knob twisted and a giant black snake flopped in from the street. Crowley reverted back into his human form and was curled up into a ball on the floor with a bunch of grocery bags, stuffed to the brim with a colorful assortment of boxes. Aziraphale approached the Demon and nudged him gently with his book.

"What are doing here, Crowley? I haven't seen you in weeks?" Aziraphale stated flatly and sat next to him. Crowley flipped on his back to face him. He lifted the plastic bags towards his adversary and dropped them into his lap. The Angel looked down at the curious collection and couldn't figure out for the life of him what it all was.

"I convinced three alley rats to raid a Sephora. This is almost three thousand dollars of pigment." The demon pointed at it and flashed a grin at the angel as he shivered in his still.

"You know I have no idea how much that it." Aziraphale took off his suit jacket and handed it to the demon who accepted it graciously.

"We've been here, what, six thousand years, and, uh, you haven't considered currency?" Crowley glared at him. He wasn't serious, but the way the inflection in his voice twitched, he already answered his question. Aziraphale wasn't affiliated with greed and all systems of barter on Earth were useless to him. He could recall he'd never paid for the bill anytime they went out.

"No. Why did you steal it? Why did you bring it here?" The Angel began to grow suspicious. Crowley never came to his bookshop without the temptation of dinner or wine first so why would he burst in now? Heaven knows, both of them had something better things to do today than freeze in his store, even if that was something demonic or nothing at all.

"I thought I test some of it on you. Can I?" Crowley stared at him with his giant black glasses and frowned like a puppy. He stretched his lanky body and straightened up to level with Aziraphale.

"No." The Angel wanted him to leave. He wanted to continue reading American Gods. On the other hand, Crowley's face did make him curious about the situation he was going to be brought into. The Demon tilted his head in disappointment and slowly began to get up. The Angel thought he was going to regret his change of heart, "Fine!" Crowley smiled knowingly.

"Great," Crowley sat up and scooted on his knees over to Aziraphale and picked through the bag. "Pick a number one through ten."

"You know seven is the sign of the lord." It was true, just because it was heavenly made it Aziraphale's favorite number.

"Okay, just thought I give you an opportunity to uses this really sparkly, rainbow palette that's vegan and cruelty-free and forms a - a - a pretty picture with the shades." The demon lifted a holographic box from the groceries and opened it up to show off an awfully bright arrangement of pinks and blues in a pyramid of color. Aziraphale thought it was beautiful. The Angel admired a lot of things he'd never admit to Crowley. Bright, very saturated reds and glitter were a secret love of his and the angel would probably be discorporated for it if anyone upstair found out about. Angels were supposed to be obsessed with cleanliness and purity, but over the course of six thousand years on earth, Aziraphale had grown to appreciate more than what heaven had taught him.

"Alright. Alright." Aziraphale obliged begrudgingly.

"GREAT," Crowley repeated. He picked up the rest of the bags and placed them beside him the Angel. Aziraphale had never experimented with 'pigments' before, maybe a little during the renaissance, but just to blush his cheeks and lips so he could fit in with the upper class. Every nobleman did back then. He didn't think he'd ever be on his floor with his adversary and enough make-up to choke the Queen. The Angel felt a sting of fear bite at the back of his head as he wondered what the Demon was up to. Crowley reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wad of brushes and appeared to be a marbled teardrop from his other hand. Sensing his confusion, his rival on earth shook the tear and said, "Beauty Blender." Aziraphale nodded his head like he understood what that met. You know, like a liar.

"You might want to close your eyes, Angel, you might die if you get the powder into your eyes. For being meant for your face, this stuff kind of stings."

"So you have done this before?"

"Maybe, but I've never had three bags full of-of expensive palletsss before, so we are both trying something out-." The demon gestured to the lot of them, "-together." That was a little tempting for Aziraphale. If Crowley knew what he was doing at least he wasn't going to mess up. The Angel closed his eyes and felt what seemed like mud being swept over his eyelids at a rough pace.

"That's not powder." Aziraphale gave up on trying to figure out what was going on. He didn't like the feeling whatever this had on his face.

"We got to work up to powder. Gotta put on the foundation first. Might feel a little wet." Crowley explained. He continued to whip the substance onto the angel. 

"Foundation? Like the rocks? You're putting wet stones on my face?" Aziraphale beamed.

"Sure."

"You got to explain this to me, Crowley, else I'm stopping you right there." The angel shot back, interrupting the Demon's handy work by opening his eye to glare. The adversary shrugged in frustration and used the hand not full of 'Beauty Blender' to take off his glasses. He squinted and reached up to hold Aziraphale's face while he assumed a position to do the rest of the foundation. Aziraphale had seen the demon being asserted before, mainly in battle, but nothing as minuscule as this. The Angel wondered why he'd be so grabby. 

"Looks like you're already in it for the long hall, Angel." Crowley put the blender to the angel's face and began to dab again, but this time ever so softly. Aziraphale pulled back and the Demon captured his face to steady it, staring intently. Aziraphale blushed with the newly found tension, but Crowley just smirked slightly. This was earthly torment, Aziraphale thought. A new battleground for Heaven and Hell. The Angel made a mental note that touching his face was not something he'd let somebody else do, but he made exceptions for Crowley.

After a while of what Aziraphale considered foundation, he heard the demon breath heavily and switch something that seemed more like a powder. The champion of good was happy to have finally worked up to powder; that meant he got out of stones and onto something more colorful and brighter. Crowley scooted closer, tangling his legs with the Angel's.

"We're finally on something powdery. Not yet sparkles. It is pink, though." Aziraphale perked up with that, leaning into the Demon's touch a little. He couldn't help himself, after a while he realized he had started to become invested in this process and what colors Crowley used. The Angel wanted to reassure himself that all this nonsense with mud was going to be worth it, in the end. He sensed the slight hesitation in the fingers on his face and then felt a brushwork it's way on his cheekbones.

"Blush," the Angel let slip, "I like Blush."

"So you know what I'm doing."

"Maybe." Aziraphale confessed. Crowley snickered and let a hand slip from the angel's face. He opened his eye to see the Demon much closer than before, wiping a smile off his own face before grabbing his neck. Yellow eyes met brown pupils, and the demon lifted his chin ever so slightly to get a better look at him. If he wasn't already scarlet, the Angel would be embarrassed, but he just shut his eyes and trusted that his adversary would stop whatever mind games he was playing and continue. Crowley booted back up, but not after he tried swiping what he thought was excess blush powder off Aziraphale.

"Hold still, Angel. I might have to threaten you if you keep this up."

"Just checking in with the artist." Then the white noise of the bookshop thickened again, and Aziraphale became lost in thoughts of whatever Crowley appeared to be doing next.

"I'm going to put some more wet stuff on your face. This time itsss, uh, liner. It's black." Crowley removed the thick blush brush and Aziraphale heard him dig around in one of the Grocery bags for something new.

"Won't black ruin the pink?"

"Nah. Black make the color pop." Crowley found where ever the black liner was and the rustling of the plastic stop. Aziraphale felt a thumb against his lip to hush him. "Think of it - think of it as the absence of color next to high definition." Then the Demon drew something over his eyes in what he presumed was the black. He thought it was a nice, cold feeling. Calming him down a little from the excitement with all the pink. However, when Crowley brought the brush over his eyebrows and onto his forehead, he got concerned.

"You're going to paint my whole face black - ." Aziraphale opened his mouth and Crowley moved his hand back to his chin, shutting him up with a little push.

"Hush. I won't. Don't be dramatic." That was somehow funny to the Demon and he bit a laugh as he continued. The Angel couldn't help but share the humor and chuckle. This was so nerve-racking to him he needed some comedy if God was going to get him through it alive. Crowley was happy with this response and lifted his both hands to Aziraphale's face and cradled it lovingly. "You know you look cute, right?"

Aziraphale was a little caught off guard by that statement. He always saw himself as something divine, not beautiful, or least cute. On the other hand, he was rather flattered anyone would call him that, and appreciated that the compliment came from Crowley, and not Micheal or Gaberial. Now that he thought of that, it made him grimace and he could feel the Demon stare daggers at him.

"Its the truth, Angel. I might be a pillar of vanity, pride, and lies, but you are cute. With and without all this - this paint." Crowley whispered like he was trying not to startle Aziraphale and leaned in close to the Angel's ear, "I swear." The holy adversary gasped slightly at the proximity. The demon was on top of him. Aziraphale wanted to look at just how close, wanted to feel a hand graze his neck again, but he chose to leave advances to Crowley. He did tempt him to do this in the first place, the Angel wasn't going to do anything the Demon didn't want him to. He didn't need to look. Arms draped over his neck and hands made soft circles on his back. The liner made a tick as it hit the floor. Another signaled the plastic handle of the brush had fallen out of Crowley's caring hands too. Then the champion of Hell rested onto his shoulder and lips brushed against his suit's trim.

"Crowley."

"Don't. Just - " Crowley pushed him ever so lightly and Aziraphale felt the wood floor hit his back. The Angel finally opened his eye and saw yellow so close, the sun could have been right outside his window and it wouldn't be as bright as the Demon right now.

"Crowley. I thought -"

"Please. Let me do what I do best," he hesitated. Crowley backed up a bit and Aziraphale was disappointed, this was more exciting than he expected painting to be and he didn't want the Demon to head in another direction, "Art." Crowley frowned and he began to pick up the liner and brush. The Angle laid there, on the floor, for a moment or two, trying to erase the memory so he could continue with the _art_. He didn't though. Propping himself up on his elbows while the red-haired figure searched for his supplies, Aziraphale gave him eyes. Maybe he could try his hand in the tempting. Crowley stopped what he was doing and meet his gaze. There was so much turmoil behind those snake eyes he hadn't noticed. Part of him began to put the puzzle together. The Angel spent his time reading a lot of romance novel. Not of a specific variety, but he did prefer the works of Oscar Wilde, and this, he thought, was the gay subtext hidden in the pages.

"Fuck art," Aziraphale whispered, lifting himself off the floor and tacking Crowley to the ground. Someone had to do it. If it was him so be it; God's plan and all.

"Okay." Was all Crowley said before the wind was knocked out of him and they were on the floor again. Aziraphale kissed up his neck, and the Demon hissed out a curse, lifting his face with both startled hands. "But we got to do something about your - your face..." Crowley started an uncontrollable laugh, releasing the Angel's face to clutch his stomach.

"What's wrong with my face? I'm going to kiss you no matter what I look like," and he did. It was passionate yet sweet and full of the clumsiness of two idiots. Aziraphale let go of Crowley and looked back at the Demon. He had a big smear of pink and black across his crimson face.

"Oh."

"What is it, Angel. Have I gotten covered in it, haven't I?" He flashed Aziraphale his smile that would kill a regular man.

"Totally." The Angel tried to wipe away the smear but just managed to spread the darkness even further. So much for being the ' Bringer of light on Earth' he thought. Snogging a man on the floor dressed up as a clown would probably go on his heavenly resume, but whatever. Crowley, at this moment, on his wood floors, during this quiet night, covered in contrasting color, was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his entire existence. He didn't care about the amount of money Crowley stole for this little excursion, he was in bliss.

Crowley got up and looked throw the make-up bag for something to clean up with, pulling out a mirror and wet wipes.

"Want to see how you look?" The Demon held the mirror and gestured it towards his Angel. Aziraphale looked at his uber pink cheeks and liner that went over his eyebrows and he died inside a little. He got Crowley all riled up looking like that and Crowley allowed him to think he was the pinnacle of cuteness. What a liar. However, that sounded like a personal problem, and he didn't have time to focus on that so he just stared back at the Demon who was laughing at him again

**Author's Note:**

> I think Crowley's going to make Aziraphale look like this:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOhamgj62jQ


End file.
